


First Watch

by chuusei_teki_na_koe



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 04:15:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15811155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chuusei_teki_na_koe/pseuds/chuusei_teki_na_koe
Summary: It turns out summoning a literal god was too great a burden on a mortal body, and Akira dies after the final battle.Some take his death harder than others. None of them really liked Akechi, but it quickly becomes apparent that someone needs to keep an eye on him. So they take turns.Ryuji goes first.





	First Watch

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for this big pile of misery.
> 
> My original intent was to write one episode with each character watching Akechi, but I'm not sure I can make it through the whole cast before I throw up my hands and write fluff of Akira and Goro feeding cupcakes to each other instead. >_>;

Ryuji just had to be the one stuck with first watch.

They were calling it “watches,” like they were guarding fortress or something, but the reality was way less cool. They initially brought the guy to Leblanc just because it was their default spot, but then realized belatedly that it was probably _really_ a bad place to make him stay and tried to convince him to go to his apartment instead, but he absolutely refused to leave. Mr. Sakura didn't have the heart to kick him out, either, so they were stuck with this.

So Ryuji was sitting at what had been Akira's desk, trying and failing to do some studying, as Goro Akechi lay curled up under the blankets of what had been Akira's bed, completely obscured from view.

Ryuji wasn't really spending much time looking at his textbook. He stared at the piles of junk on the desk in front of him. Akira had always come up with such weird gadgets for using in the metaverse. This desk looked like the strangest collection of knicknacks belonging to someone who was a little bit odd in the head. Ryuji had just sort of taken for granted the fact that this stuff worked, and had never really thought deeply about it. He had taken a lot of things for granted.

He was thinking deeply about it now.

“You awake?” Ryuji asked the figure behind him. It had been silent and still for some time. No response. He was probably asleep.

Ryuji wanted to get something to eat, and he figured this was a good opportunity, so he pushed the chair back quietly so as not to wake Akechi, then padded downstairs.

Mr. Sakura was willing to feed any of them while they were there, which was nice of him. This couldn't be easy for him, either.

“Here you go,” Mr. Sakura served him a plate of curry at a booth. “There's more for him, too.” Sojiro jerked his head toward the stairs. “If he wants it.”

“Thanks,” Ryuji said. “Really. For letting us be here and stuff.” He felt super awkward to say that, but also felt it was important to show his gratitude. “Um. If you need any help with cleaning or anything, I could...”

“It's fine.” Mr. Sakura turned around, curt. More curt than before. “I can handle this place fine. You handle him.” He went back behind the bar.

Ryuji looked down at his curry. It was testament to his healthy constitution that he could work up an appetite at all. No amount of misery could stop Ryuji from eating. He ate the curry slower than usual, checking his phone while he was at it.

There was a text from Ann. **t** **hings going ok?**

**yeah, hes asleep. just been sitting around trying to study**

**i'm sure u got lots of studying done.**

**hey!! I study sometimes!!**

Their banter felt forced. Ryuji put his phone away, finished off his curry, and brought the plate over to the bar counter. “Thanks, Mr. Sakura. When he wakes up, I'll ask if he wants any.”

Now comfortably full, Ryuji went up the stairs to see—

“Shit!”

Akechi was sitting at Akira's desk chair, slumped over his desk, bleeding out from the wrist into a swiftly growing puddle at his feet.

Fucker had been pretending to be asleep.

Ryuji raced over to him and grabbed his arm, squeezing the wound. Akechi was already out cold. Ryuji briefly panicked, wondering what he should use to bandage this thing, and his eyes hit on these scraps of some sort of gray cloth material stuffed in a jar on Akira's desk. He grabbed one, tied it higher up on Akechi's arm, and then another couple over the slices on his forearm. It seemed he'd done it with a utility knife from Akira's desk drawer, which was now lying on the floor.

That seemed to slow down the bleeding alright, anyway. Ryuuji wiped his hands off on another of those cloths and went for his phone. He had a number for someone he was supposed to call if something like this happened. Takemi? Doctor Takemi. Ryuji scrolled through his contacts.

Doctor Takemi was in the neighborhood, so it didn't take long for her to come over. Ryuji paced uncomfortably as he waited. He didn't go downstairs to let Mr. Sakura know what had happened. He'd find out when the doctor walked through the cafe. Ryuji just wasn't into having that confrontation right now.

“You should really take him to the hospital. At least he doesn't seem to need a transfusion,” the doctor said as she hooked up an IV with saline solution on Akechi's unwounded left arm, hanging the bag from a hook on the wall that Akira may have used for coats. Or maybe it was just there for no reason, like a lot of the junk up here. She made sure his other arm was clean and stitched it up. They'd laid Akechi down on the bed.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Ryuji asked, once the doctor was done. While she was busy, he'd occupied himself cleaning up the blood.

“He's not going to die tonight,” the doctor said darkly. “But he's not in good condition. You need to make sure he gets a solid meal, with lots of iron-rich vegetables.” Then she looked straight at Akechi, lying on the bed. “I know you're not actually unconscious. But if you want to continue pretending, then fine. Just listen to me. I can only stitch up your body. You need psychological help. And there's no shame in seeking that sort of medical professional. Injuries come in all sorts. And I can refer you.”

Akechi's mouth twitched.

The doctor sighed, then looked at Ryuuji. He couldn't meet her eyes. “I thought he was asleep,” he attempted to explain himself, even though she hadn't accused him of anything.

“It's good that you're staying with him,” was all she said to him. Ryuuji looked up at her. Her expression was as unreadable as it had been when she'd examined Akira's body. She was the sort of intense personality that made Ryuji kinda uncomfortable. But he was grateful for her help. She clearly cared, if she was coming over to do this for no extra over her usual clinic costs. Akira had said they'd been good friends.

Ryuuji just bobbed his head in a bow of thanks.

When she was gone, he sat back down on Akira's desk chair, then got up again. Sitting on the spot where he'd literally just mopped up Akechi's blood wigged him out a bit too much. So he took his textbook and highlighters and migrated to the couch, but mostly spent the time staring at Akechi, who was still pretending to be asleep.

“Eat your damn curry,” Ryuji said eventually. There was a swiftly chilling plate of curry on a tray on the floor by Akechi's bed. “Or do you need me to spoon-feed it to you?”

Normally, something like that would have gotten a rise out of Akechi, but now, he hardly twitched.

Ryuji dropped his textbook. Studying clearly wasn't going to happen. He stalked over to Akechi and grabbed him by his pyjama shirt, forcibly dragging him up into a sitting position. That was enough to make Akechi open his eyes and slap Ryuji away with his IV'd arm. Good. Ryuji picked up the tray and dumped it in Akechi's lap. “Eat your damn curry,” he repeated.

Akechi started to push the tray over, but Ryuji had seen this coming, and his reflexes were fast. He snatched the plate just as it started to tip, lifting it to safety as he glared down at Akechi. “Throwing a tantrum and dumping your food? What are you, two?”

“Fuck you,” Akechi spat.

Ryuji's response was to scoop out a spoonful of curry and smack it into Akechi's face. The sauce dribbled down his chin, while the rice pattered onto the blanket beneath him. “Does baby Akechi need to be fed? Here comes the choo-choo train. Whoops. Looks like it missed.”

Akechi's left arm, the IV'd one, swung out at Ryuji's face, but weak from blood loss, his punch wasn't much. Ryuuji caught his fist in a cupped hand. “Don't yank out your IV, you moron. Just eat your curry, or I'm gonna have to feed it to ya, and neither of us want that.” Ryuuji returned the plate to the tray and set it down again in front of Akechi.

Akechi glowered at him. In return, Ryuuji tossed him one of the napkins he'd left on Akira's desk, and Akechi cleaned up his face and the fallen rice, then finally actually started eating. He didn't get far before stopping and putting the tray aside, but that was probably as much as Ryuji could expect.

“You're not obligated to do this,” Akechi said after some pause. Ryuuji looked up from his seat on the couch, where he'd been fiddling with his phone. Akechi was looking down. His overlong hair was all over the place. He was ridiculously pale. And Akira's pyjamas made him look skinnier, somehow. He basically looked like shit.

“Yeah, I am,” Ryuuji shot back, without much thought.

“Because of Akira? Or because the others pressured you into it?” Akechi's tone was bitter enough to put coffee to shame.

“Hey, I don't want you to die, either.”

“Why not? We both know you can't stand me.”

Ryuji still continued to be bowled over by how Akechi acted like a completely different person now. Ryuji had only ever seen him like this that once, when he had confronted them in Shido's palace and summoned Loki on them. Before that, he'd maintained a mask of perfect, friendly civility. Afterward, he'd mostly maintained that, with moments of nastiness here and there as what was apparently his true nature slipped through.

Ryuji supposed this was who he really was, and the politeness was just a face he put up. He wasn't sure which version of Akechi he preferred. They were both kind of shit.

“Just because I can't stand you doesn't mean I want you dead.”

“My death would cost you nothing.”

“It'd make me feel guilty as shit for letting it happen.”

“So it's a sense of moral obligation, then? The same reason you helped total strangers with your Phantom Thief friends, or would help an old lady cross the street?”

What he was saying sounded reasonable, but his tone was like an attack. Ryuji couldn't help but feel pissed. “Yeah, it is! Fucking pardon me for having a conscience! Someone around here has to have one!”

Akechi jerked as if he'd been slapped, then gave Ryuji an ice-cold smile. “Well, it's nice that we're all being honest here.”

Ryuji felt a clench in his gut. He shouldn't have said that. This was probably not helping to convince Akechi he should not end his life. It was just sort of hard to be nice to a guy who was just such a...such a piece of shit.

Ryuji stomped the floor in frustration. What the fuck had Akira seen in this guy? Why had Akira constantly stuck his neck out for him? Yeah, he'd gone through some shit. Ryuji had a certain degree of sympathy for him, as a fellow victim of a deadbeat dad (and he had to admit that Shido had taken that to a whole new level of suck). That was why he'd been okay with Akechi joining them. It was just—hard to trust him. And it wasn't like Akechi had really tried to connect with them, either.

Akechi had been ready to kill all of them back in Shido's palace, but somehow, Akira had talked him down, won him over.

Convincing the other Phantom Thieves to accept him, however, was a different story. The had all accepted Akira's decision—some more reluctantly than others—and following that, Akechi had joined them in their missions—but he'd never really been a part of the group. Akira had tried to bring him in, and Ann and Yusuke had been moderately kind to him, and Ryuji had tried to tolerate him, but he'd always sort of floated on the fringes, hiding in Akira's shadow as he alternately doled out inoffensive smiles, self-pity and subtly snide remarks. It had been pretty fucking insufferable.

Now, Akira wasn't there for him to hide behind.

For about the millionth time that day, Akira's corpse flashed in Ryuji's mind. He still couldn't quite believe it. Part of him still wanted to assume after that, Mona had cast a Samarecarm, and everything had been fine _._ He kept checking his phone, expecting texts from Akira.

Of course, remembering Akira's corpse meant remembering Akechi, too. They'd had to physically pry him off Akira so that Takemi could look at him—but by that point, Akira had been clearly very dead. Recalling how Akechi had completely lost it upon Akira's death reminded Ryuji why he was sitting here now, babysitting this guy he didn't really like but couldn't just abandon.

“You're not the only one who's mourning, you know,” Ryuji said, and he heard his own voice shaking. “I lost my best friend, okay?”

“And I lost the only person who _ever_ gave a shit about me!”

The vehemence and volume of his voice made Ryuji jump in his seat. Akechi had thrown off the covers, and was kneeling on the bed, leaning forward to bare his teeth at Ryuji. The IV was the leash holding him on the spot.

“And you want to sit there on your _moral high horse_ and pretend like you're doing me a favor?! None of you actually want me alive! I'm just a _moral obligation_ to you! A leftover item from your darling leader that you _unfortunately_ feel you have to take care of! You know you'd all be better off if I were dead! So stop with the bullshit and just let me do it!”

His words stabbed Ryuuji in the gut. Ryuji didn't want to admit that he was right. Or at least partly. But he was running out of good arguments. All he had left was directionless anger. He hopped off the couch and stomped toward Akechi. “I'm not fucking going to take part in this pity party. If no one giving a shit about you hurts so much, then maybe you should solve your stupid fucking problem by not being such an asshole all the time instead of blaming everyone else for it.”

That was a stupid thing to say. Akechi lunged at him, and the hook on the wall must have been loose, as the IV bag yanked out with it. Akechi's left fist went for his face, but Ryuji pushed his wrist aside easily, then grabbed him by the pyjama top to shove him back down on the bed. Akechi struggled a little, and got in a good whack on Ryuji's jaw with his other fist, but Ryuji had more muscle than him, and pinned both his arms.

“Let's not pretend you liked me any better when I was being perfectly civil to you all the time. You would hate me, no matter what.”

Then Akechi spat in his face.

“You little shit...” Ryuji lifted a hand to wipe his face off, and Akechi took that opportunity to punch him right in the nose with his newly-freed left hand. Ryuuji was a bit stunned for a second, touching his face and coming away with blood on his fingertips. He looked down to see Akechi's smirk.

Ryuji had an instinctual eye-for-an-eye mentality when it came to fistfights, so it wasn't until after he'd punched Akechi back that he realized it was probably a bad idea to be beating up a guy in his sickbed. A drip of blood oozed out of Akechi's nose, and he licked it. His face was flushed, and there was something strange about the way he was looking up at Ryuji, the way he licked that blood off.

“You going to hit me again, or what?” Akechi said, and his voice was thick.

Suddenly, Ryuji realized he was basically straddling Akechi on the bed. “...Are you fucking _getting off_ on this?”

“You just realized that? Gee, you're slower than I thought,” Akechi said, and at this point, Ryuji finally figured out that Akechi was deliberately trying to provoke him.

Underneath him, Akechi slid his body up a little and pushed his crotch up against Ryuji.

Huh. Even after all that blood loss, he could still get hard.

“This is fucked up,” Ryuji said, but he didn't move. He wasn't sure what the protocol was for _your dead best friend's boyfriend grinding up against you literally the day after said best friend's death_ , so he just froze up.

“If you fuck me,” Akechi murmured, “I promise not to kill myself on your watch.” He continued grinding up against Ryuji's crotch.

What the fuck kind of promise was that?

Ryuji's breath started coming shallow. This was all kinds of terrible. But. “You promise?”

“I promise, I promise,” Akechi breathed, and something in the back of Ryuji's mind was telling him that promises made while horny and bereaved probably did not amount to much, and that blackmailing him using his own suicide if he didn't agree to sex was basically fucking horrible, but Ryuji found himself unable to say no, unable to reject Akechi when he knew full well that he was one more rejection away from jumping out the window headfirst.

Akechi was such an asshole.

“Fine,” Ryuuji said. “But I'm hanging up your IV bag, first.” He got up to pick up the bag.

Akechi hmphed. “It's done already, anyway.” Akechi ripped the tape off his arm and pulled the tube out casually, pressing a thumb to the point to stop any bleeding. “Here.” He handed Ryuji the red-marked tube.

Ryuji winced—medical stuff kinda got to him—and put the admittedly-empty bag and tube over on a shelf, and then went over to Akira's desk to try to find some kind of bandage or something and picked up one of those cloths from earlier. He brought it back to Akechi, going to kneel on the bed, grabbed his arm, and wrapped the cloth around his forearm.

“This is overkill. It will stop bleeding in a minute,” Akechi said.

“You're talking like you know about this stuff.”

“Of course I do. I've invaded dozens of palaces by myself. You think I never got hurt?” Ryuji looked at him. With no preamble, Akechi pulled off Akira's pyjama shirt and revealed his chest to be a mess of scars. “I've learned how to do the basics on my own.”

“Shit,” Ryuuji muttered, thoughtlessly reaching out to touch one particularly nasty one near Akechi's heart. “Pretty boy's not so pretty, after all.”

Akechi's mouth twisted in something that couldn't even be called a smile. “You can turn out the lights if it bothers you that much.” Then he slipped off the pyjama bottoms, and his briefs with it, and he leaned in toward Ryuji. His erection had wilted, but he seemed quite willing to get started on it again, as he went straight for Ryuji's belt, then unzipped his pants to pull out his cock.

Ryuji was soft, but under Akechi's tongue, that quickly changed. Ryuji had never been sucked off by a guy before—or anyone, though he would only admit his virginity under the cruelest torture—and if this was the bar Akechi was going to set, it'd be fucking hard for anyone to beat this record. Ryuji was very quickly hard, leaning over and bracing himself on Akechi's shoulders as Akechi sucked him with focused intent.

“Ahh...” Ryuji found himself whimpering a little, and kind of wanted to kick himself for it. This was not a situation he'd ever imagined himself in. But now that he was in it, he felt like he was being slowly dragged under, like quicksand. He'd tried not to think about Akira's sex life, before, but now Akira's sex life was very suddenly his business. He wondered how Akira and Akechi had fucked. What it had been like. He was getting the impression Akechi was into some weird shit. Or had it been more romantic? Had they fucked slow, Akira embracing him and whispering into his ear—

Akechi's lips pulled off him with a pop, and then he flopped back on the bed. He was totally hard just from having sucked Ryuji off. He reached over to the shelf by the bed like he knew just what he was looking for (and he probably did) to grab a little bottle and toss it at Ryuji.

Reflexively, he caught it. It was lube. Ryuji blushed.

“Come on, you're not a virgin, are you?” Akechi sneered, leaning back on his elbows on the pillows. Ryuuji blushed deeper. “Wait, you are? Seriously? With that body? I mean, personality aside, at least you're ripped. That's got to count for something.”

Ryuji knew Akechi was baiting him, but he couldn't help but feel pissed, anyway. He lubed himself up, dropped the bottle by the side of the bed, and forcibly rolled Akechi over onto his face. Akechi didn't fight it.

“I hope you know how to stick your dick in a hole, at least,” Akechi went on. “That's something even you can manage, just based on instinct, right?” His ass was pointed straight up at Ryuji, mockingly inviting.

Ryuji just shoved straight into him. Akechi shuddered, and slumped into the sheets.

Ryuji held him by the hips and started moving, in and out. Akechi was impatient, rocking back into him, fucking himself on Ryuji's cock. “Come on, is that it? Maybe I should call Yusuke over instead. I imagine he has a bigger dick, too.”

“Agh! Fuck, you, seriously!” Ryuji drove all the way in, hard, and Goro cried out, hands gripping the sheets. Ryuji pulled all the way out to ram in again, and again, mercilessly pounding Akechi's ass until the boy underneath him was jerking himself with his hand and moaning incoherently into the pillow.

Or perhaps not so incoherently. Ryuuji realized what he was saying.

“ _Akira, Akira, I love you, please, Akira, Akira...”_

Ryuji bit his lip, but kept going in silence as he listened to Akechi's breathing becoming more and more ragged, felt the warmth around his cock tighten. Ryuji came first, choking back a noise as he shot his load into Akechi, then continued rocking a little through his orgasm, despite the raw feeling, until Akechi's come dripped onto the sheets and his ass clenched around Ryuji's sensitive cock.

Akechi was the one to pull them apart, grabbing some tissues to clean himself off and wipe off the bed, tossing one to Ryuji, before he swiftly dressed in Akira's pyjamas again, then buried himself under the blankets and turned toward the wall.

Ryuji supposed this was his cue that this was over. He cleaned himself off, zipped himself up, and staggered back to the couch again.

“...You're really not gonna do it tonight, then?” he said, finally. “I kinda want to sleep at some point.”

“I won't,” Akechi said. There was a distinct wobble in his voice. It sounded like he was crying.

Ryuji slid his hands over his face and through his hair. He had no fucking clue what to do or say. If Akira were here...well, if Akira were here, they wouldn't be having this problem in the first place.

Ryuji got the feeling that he was making it worse, and that evening had just been a chain of him fucking things up. Akira wouldn't have fucked shit up like this. Akira would know what to say, what to do. Akira wouldn't have lost his temper at Akechi over and over. Akira probably would have hugged Akechi or some shit. Even if Ryuji could have brought himself to do that, Akechi would never accept that from him—not from anyone, most likely.

The fact that Akira had been able to do that was just testament to what a fucking amazing guy he was. He had a way with people. He knew what people felt, what they needed. He could connect with anyone, somehow. He knew how to be calm, how to listen. That was something Ryuji could never do, not in a million years. Ryuji was just one-note, reacting on instinct to everything, unable to help himself even when he knew he was being stupid. Akira had held him in check, kept him from being too much of an idiot. But now no one was there to hold him back.

Ryuji needed Akira here.

 _Shit. Now I'm crying._ Ryuji covered his face and smothered his sobs as best he could.

He heard the rustling of blankets on the bed and lifted his head. Akechi was looking at him. His face was red from crying, and he was looking at Ryuji's face with an expression Ryuji couldn't read. Then he turned around again and hid himself in the blankets.

“I'll say one thing...” Ryuji said, wiping his face once he'd gotten his crying under control. “You...have good taste. I...get why you fell for Akira.”

“Anyone would fall for him,” Akechi said, his voice muffled by blankets. But the emotion in his voice got through loud and clear.

“Yeah,” Ryuji muttered. “I get you.”

On the couch, Ryuji didn't get much sleep that night. But Akechi was still alive the next morning. That had to count for something. Right?

 


End file.
